By The Lakeside
by TotoroBird
Summary: After Dumbledore's funeral, Hermione reflects on her time at Hogwarts, and realises just how much she will miss her home. As it turns out , she's not the only one. Ron/Hermione - during HBP


**A/N: Thank you for reading. I do not own Harry Potter, it all belongs to J. K. Rowling. Reviews are always welcome - I love hearing what you all think. Though I like my fanfics to be solidly canon, I guess I'll run out of ideas pretty soon if I only stick to the books. Therefore, I wrote this. It's basically Ron and Hermione's first kiss, just one book earlier than due. I hope you like reading it as much as I liked writing it!**

The castle was dark and grim under the thick grey clouds. Not a lantern was lit in the windows or doorways, there was no light left at Hogwarts. It was a solid black mass below a slowly gathering dusk sky. It was bitingly cold; the sun had long since retreated. Somewhere above the towers and turrets was where the Dark Mark had been only a day before.

Hermione sat with her knees hugged to her chest by the glassy lake, as she looked over the landscape she knew so well. Her eyes glazed over Forbidden Forest fringing the far end of the lake and stretching far into the horizon. It was where she, Harry and Ron had ventured in their first year; where they had had a majority of their Care of Magical Creatures lessons; where they met Hagrid's half-brother, Grawp; and where they had got rid of Umbridge. By that time, a lot of the dangers found in that forest were second nature to them. At this point, Hermione could have easily walked into a circle of centaurs and not thought twice about the consequences of her actions. There was a new, much more potent crisis ahead of them, and not even a herd of powerful half-breeds could stop it.

She could see Hagrid's hut, as well, at the far right hand side of her peripheral vision. There was no light visible at the windows, and no smoke rose from the stubby little chimney on top. Hagrid must have still been with Grawp. Hermione smiled a little as she remembered all the nights of sneaking out after hours to visit Hagrid. That one particular evening where the she, Harry and Ron had smuggled a newly hatched, fire-breathing dragon out of the school in first year was still as vivid in her mind as yesterday's events, though it was over five years ago.

It seemed such a long time ago, when they first arrived at this wonderful, wonderful place. When she had been the bossy know-it-all - she still was - and Ron had been a little boy with dirt on his nose and Harry had been a reluctant eleven year-old celebrity. Back when detentions were taboo in her books and learning was her oxygen. The amount of times they had nearly been expelled in their first year alone, a younger Hermione would shudder to think, but now, in the dawn of a new war, it didn't seem to matter quite as much.

Finally, her eyes came to rest on the small island in the centre of the lake, where a white marble tomb lay. Her breath caught in her lungs a little and her body curled up a little more tightly. That was where Dumbledore's body was laid. The man who had protected and guided them through their adolescence was dead, murdered by his trusted friend. Behind her was the tower that he had fallen from. Sometimes, she still had to shake herself to check if she wasn't just having a nightmare. But no, it was determinedly and horribly real. And she couldn't stand it.

The funeral had been a few hours ago. They had said their final goodbyes to the greatest man who ever lived. She couldn't remember Harry ever looking so devastated, not since Sirius' death at any rate. It killed her to see her best friend like that - no, not her best friend, her brother.

She had cried, quite a lot, if she were honest. She had cried because she knew what Hogwarts was going to become without its headmaster; she knew that her home was to be defiled by Death Eaters in a matter of months; and most of all, without Dumbledore, there was nothing that stood between them and Voldemort.

Her life was going to alter and turn upside down irrevocably, with no way of stopping it. Soon, she, Harry and Ron would be Britain's most wanted with a ten thousand galleon price on their heads; what was anyone supposed to think about that? So she cried, and even though she felt weak because of it, she honestly didn't know what else she could do.

And Ron was there beside her the entire time. When the tears began to spill out of her eyes, Hermione felt his arm creep tentatively around her shoulders. For once, she didn't question, but simply rested her forehead against his neck, and let the tears fall for her headmaster, and the life they once lived.

After the ceremony, he pulled her into a fierce hug, rested his chin on the top of her head and stroked her messy hair. She said nothing, but simply clenched her eyes shut, hoping that maybe she would wake up. That normality would be restored and they would still be three school students. Maybe that she would find herself in her four poster bed and none of it had happened. Ron and Harry would be sat in the Great Hall, talking about Quidditch over breakfast. She would of course be looking over the stacks of homework they had both left until the last minute. It would be as it always was. What she wouldn't have given to have that reality back.

But it was no use. Soon, she would leave this place, her home. Possibly never to return. Never to walk its corridors; to find solace in its library; even just to sit in the Great Hall every morning. It was the end of Hogwarts as she knew it.

Hermione knew this. Though it killed her to lose her favourite place in the world with her favourite people in the world, there was nothing in her power to stop any of it. What happened to those days when the worst thing to fear was the exams at the end of term? It seemed so long ago that they were writing exceedingly long essays for potions and revising for tests, yet it was little over forty eight hours ago.

But then the Dark Mark appeared. Everything changed. Dumbledore was dead. Dumbledore was dead. No matter how many times she repeated it, it didn't seem to add up in her mind. He just couldn't be dead. She couldn't remember a time when he was ever not around. But he was dead. And they were hopelessly alone in a slowly corrupting world.

The Death Eaters had been consuming the country over the last year. It was only amount of time before the ministry would fall. However, she had never thought it would end like this.

No, she couldn't afford to think like that. It wasn't the end. It wasn't the end until Voldemort's body hit the ground. And Hermione would be damned if she missed that moment. They would fight until there was nothing left; they would fight until their bodies were broken and torn; they would fight until they were nothing but would be how it ended.

The light was fading in the dull sky. The lake was darkening. Hermione should have gone inside - lights were turning on in the castle - but she didn't want to leave. As soon as she left, she would never see the lake again, or the forest, or Hagrid's hut. Every second just kept slipping away, and she couldn't capture them back to her, clutch at them and keep them. Time kept moving forcefully forward, forcing her forward. Never had Hermione felt so helpless.

'Hermione?' A voice called uncertainly from behind her. She turned to see the figure of Ron, emerging from the silhouetted castle. She wanted to smile at the sight of him, to laugh and hug him; she wished it were an occasion for all that. Yet it wasn't. And she couldn't. 'Hermione, we didn't know where you were!' He took in her sad brown eyes and trembling lip. 'What's wrong?'

'What isn't wrong?' she sighed.

'Oh,' he said, then mumbled, 'Sorry, that was a stupid question.'

'It's alright.' Hermione shrugged and turned to face the lake again, watching the water ripple in the breeze.

'Is there anything I can do?' he asked tentatively from behind her.

She gave a short bitter laugh. 'If you can think of anything, feel free to do so.'

The was no reply, and for a moment she thought he had walked off. But then Hermione heard a shuffling and suddenly felt Ron's arms wrap round her from behind. She froze in surprise, then settled down into his chest, letting him rest his chin on her shoulder.

'Thank you,' she whispered, smiling. His arms tightened a little.

'Welcome.'

They looked out at the scenery, breathing it in for what probably was the final time. She could feel his heartbeat against her shoulder blades. It was fluttery, like a child's, and she wondered if he would miss this place as much as she already did. When had their time here ended? Maybe it had already finished. Maybe it had ceased when that curse hit Dumblebore. She wondered when they had stopped being able to take this time for granted. Maybe this was how Harry felt every day.

'Do you remember our first year?' she said, nodding her head towards the forest. She heard a snort near her earlobe and knew he was laughing.

'When we got marched into that death-trap? Hell, yes.' Hermione could feel his breath on her neck. It was nice.

'And you went there in second year when I was petrified.' She grinned up at him.

'Oh God, don't remind me,' he shuddered, 'Remind me never to follow the spiders ever again.'

'It's alright, I'm pretty sure Voldemort hasn't got an army of spiders.'

'I bloody well hope so.' She laughed.

'And over there was where Harry did the second task,' she said reminiscently, pointing over to the far end of the lake. 'We were in the water. You were Harry's precious possession, and I was-' she broke off abruptly, and coughed. Krum was a touchy subject for Ron and she had no intention of ruining these last few moments of peace by bringing him up.

'Yeah, I remember,' he said, gazing out at the water as it gradually grew darker. They both sighed contentedly.

'Do you think we'll ever come back?' Hermione whispered.

Ron smiled. 'One day, maybe. When all this is over. Our children will probably come here.'

'Yes, maybe.' She wondered if he realised what he just said. He most likely did, for she could feel his muscles tense and his skin heat up a little. She decided not to mention it. 'It's hard to think that we might actually have lives after this is finished. We'll have jobs and houses and kids. There won't be a dark side to fight anymore.'

'Sounds quite nice to me,' Ron shrugged. 'I quite fancy a normal life. We'll either come out of it victorious grown ups or- or...'

'Dead,' Hermione finished flatly. All warmth she felt in his arms evaporated. She suddenly realised the likelihood of her death, or Ron's, or Harry's, or Neville and Luna and Ginny's. They had all survived so far mostly on luck and protection from others. But now it was their war, and luck was an unpredictable blessing. How long would it be before their luck ran out? It had to run out some time. After all, the Death Eaters weren't ones to spare those who they thought disposable. Who would be the first to face their wrath?

'Hermione?' Ron's voice sounded concernedly behind her. She jolted out of her panicked daze and realised her face was wet with tears. She reached up to brush them away, but Ron had already turned her round so she was partially facing him. His face had look of tenderness as he wiped away the remnants of her fear with his thumb. His hands froze in action as he seemed to take in their proximity. His lips unconsciously parted and he turned red. Her breathing was speeding up a little. Then he coughed and looked away. She was flooded with a mix of relief and disappointment as the butterflies in her chest settled.

Slowly she turned away and they resumed their previous position.

'Everything's going to change, isn't it?' Hermione murmured. It was more of a statement than anything, and as soon as it left her lips, she regretted it. As it took physical form in the air before her, it became real, not just a thought in her head. Saying it gave it some form of being.

'It was bound to sooner or later,' he said simply, 'Ever since that night in fourth year.'

Hermione shuddered as she recalled the evening of the final Triwizard Tournament challenge, when Harry appeared sobbing, clutching the cup in his bloody fist, hunched over Cedric Diggory's dead body. It had been the most horrific thing to happen to Hogwarts since the Chamber of Secrets opened in second year and Ginny was nearly killed. It was slightly ironic how it had begun between Harry and Ginny. She had been Ron's clingy little sister who used to blush and and fall silent whenever he was within a five mile radius. Towards their sixth year, their roles somewhat reversed, and - to the disgust of Ron - they finally admitted their feelings.

'I remember that night,' she sighed. 'I suppose you're right.'

'First time for everything,' he said. She laughed and laid her head back against his shoulder.

The sky was deep purple now, the air was growing icy cold as the darkness drew in. Yet they didn't move from where they sat. Ron kept his arms tightly wrapped around her shoulders, until she began shivering.

'Are you cold?' he asked gently, turning her slightly a second time so that he could see her face.

'Yes,' she said truthfully. Her fingers currently felt like they were missing.

'We should go inside,' he said, pushing himself up of the ground so he stood above her.

'No,' she said a little too quickly. He looked at her frowning. She could feel herself breaking under his scrutiny. 'No, I'm fine.'

'Hermione, you look freezing. You should go in.'

'I've told you, no!' she snapped. Ron looked at her in surprise. The barriers were down and her eyes were beginning to flood again. But no. She would. Not. Cry.

'Are you okay?' His voice was concerned, and a touch hurt.

Hermione took a deep breath and hardened herself. 'I'm fine,' she muttered. 'I just- I don't want to go.' Her confession came out a pathetic, heartbroken sigh, and she cursed herself for her weakness.

'Really?' he said. He sounded surprised almost.

Her sadness was caving into desperation which was caving into anger. 'No, of course not!' she said sharply, 'No, I don't care. I don't care at all that I'm going to lose my home. That I'll never get to see my favourite place in the world again?' She let out a mirthless, slightly hysterical laugh. She was on her feet now, staring defiantly into his face, 'Doesn't bother me at all! And why would it? I'm only saying goodbye to my childhood!'

Ron said nothing, but looked down at the ground. 'You don't think I know that?' His voice was little more than a growl.

'What?' She thought he had misheard him.

'Hermione, I am absolutely bloody terrified.' He shook his head and ran his hand distractedly through his fiery red hair. His voice was rising to a yell. 'The last thing I want to do is leave this place, and now Dumbledore is dead, and everything is going so goddamn quickly and I can't even work out whether I'm sad at Dumbledore's death; angry at what this world is coming to; or scared out of my mind that the three of us won't probably survive the next year! So no! I don't want to leave!'

There was an echoing silence as Hermione took in all he said. His blue eyes were blazing and his face was inches from hers. The seconds dragged as they glared at each other, but her mind was racing.

He knew. He knew her pain. She wasn't the only one desperate to cling on to her happy place. And suddenly, she wasn't so alone anymore. She had Ron. Wonderful, aggravating, ridiculously-stupidly-lovely Ron. Suddenly, none of it mattered. Those bastards would never take him. She would make sure of that as long as she lived.

Without thinking, Hermione closed the gap and pushed her mouth up against his. After a moment, she pulled away, her heart exploding in her chest. Ron looked as if he had been hit on the head with a bludger. His eyes were wide in surprise and he had gone bright red. It suddenly hit her - the enormity of what she had just done. She could still taste the salt on his lips from that moment of pure stupidity. Why had she done it? Because for a split second, she forgot that he wasn't hers.

Light little droplets of rain were beginning to fall, leaving icy trails down her neck and face, but she couldn't have noticed them if she tried. There was literally nothing - nothing in her vast knowledge of vocabulary - for her to say at this point in time. And what could she possibly say to the boy she was in love with? The boy who still stood gaping at her as if she had just attempted to murder him. Breathing hard, she took a step away to distance herself from him, and covered her face with her hands. Loneliness and desperation was closing back in on her like solid stone walls, bleak and hopeless.

Suddenly, her hands were gently pulled from her face, and she looked up to see Ron, stood only a few centimetres away in front of her, with an expression of utmost tenderness. Her breath caught in her throat as she took in their proximity. Before she could say anything to break the suffocating silence, he pressed his lips against hers, and she was forever irrevocably lost.

His lips were soft and damp with rain, and she couldn't help but devour them with her own. It was hard to tell whether she wanted to cry in mourning for the time wasted or scream with elation and joy because the boy with the red hair and dirty nose was finally hers. Her hands cupped his wonderful face as his arms wrapped tightly round her waist and pulled her up against him. Time seemed to freeze as it was; the rain fell in slow motion. The only thing going at a sped up pace was her heartbeat.

He pulled away and began kissing the raindrops off her cheeks, eyelids and the tip of her nose. Her eyes fluttered closed and she tipped her head back as his mouth brushed her skin. He travelled down to her throat and laid sweet little kisses on the exposed skin. She rested her forehead on his shoulder and breathed him in, as he buried his face in her neck. Once again, she raised her head and captured his eager lips with her own.

The kiss ended as tenderly as it began. They broke apart, still entwined, and grinned sheepishly at each other. The rain was pouring down at a fairly consistent rate now, and as they took each other in with their eyes for what seemed like the first time, Ron began to laugh. Hermione looked down at her soaked clothes, then at his darkened damp hair and began laughing too.**  
**

'We should go inside,' Hermione murmured, shaking her head and smiling.

'Really? I was having so much fun in the freezing cold and rain,' Ron said, 'We should do it more often.'

'Shut up Ron.'

She took his hand and began to lead him up to the now completely illuminated castle. As they reached the wooden doors, Ron pulled her close once more and pressed his lips softly against her forehead. She wrapped her arms round his neck and hugged him close to her, knowing that this would probably be their final peaceful moment. They stayed in this embrace for a while, then they broke apart and slipped through the door, leaving the lake, the forest, and the tomb behind. But not for the last time.


End file.
